Saving Grace
by Takara Matsudaira
Summary: Grace always had had to deal with one Pansy Parkinson's drama, being her roommate for years on end made the Slytherin girl quite weary of romance; because, if Parkinson's complaining had taught her anything in all those years, it was that romance brought drama and that drama was never good. Post-DH. Conspiracies galore. Sub-plots. Draco/OC, etc.
1. Chapter 1: Detention with McGonagall

**A/N **Hey, guys, Taka here! I probably shouldn't be starting another story, but I did anyway because I'm stubborn, and so is my muse apparently. :) So here it is!

**Disclaimer** _Harry Potter_ (c) to the ever so brilliant and most clever J.K. Rowling. Grace Amaura King & Professor Caldwell (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

* * *

Chapter One – "Detention with McGonagall"

Grace Amaura King was a nobody, but still a pure-blood, though she never believed in such ridiculous things; ridiculous things like blood purity. As a child, her parents had taught her that everyone was created equal.

She was a Seventh Year in Slytherin, and had the uncanny ability to draw out trouble wherever it may lurk in the corridors. She wasn't pretty, but also not ugly; she was "naturally plain," as dubbed by her roommate one Pansy Parkinson; her other three roommates were Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. The girls often times just left her well enough alone, if they knew what was good for them – especially after the war, considering the small, little fact that she was the only Slytherin to fight for Potter and his precious Muggle-borns – but there were those few occasions when Parkinson would stir up trouble just for the hell of it.

Parkinson had it in for her; it was only the second week back, and already she had detention thanks to the girl. But it wasn't all bad it seemed, because it looked like she'd be the only one serving detention with the Headmistress in the Transfiguration classroom that night. The room was practically empty when she walked in, handing McGonagall – who was sitting behind her desk, silently grading papers – her wand, and took a seat near the front of the classroom. She'd never find herself at the front of class during class, but it was a nice change of pace considering it was detention and not actual class time. And it was the perfect time to get to work on her homework without any distractions. McGonagall stopped what she was doing and looked up at her, nodding at Grace in silent approval, before getting back to her own work.

In Muggle Studies earlier that day, they were assigned to write a poem, about how they felt now that the war was finally over and done with. Grace dipped her handsome scarlet quill into her inkwell and began to write, but soon finding out that, writing about one's feelings, wasn't as easy as Professor Caldwell made it sound in class. Professor Caldwell was the new Muggle Studies professor; he had been hired in replace of Professor Burbage – Grace's favorite professor – after her unfortunate end. Professor Burbage was somewhat of an inspiration to Grace, she had never known someone to be so understanding, patient, and kind, if not a little odd in her own right. She missed her old professor greatly.

That was when inspiration struck.

She quickly dipped her quill into her inkwell and began scribbling furiously, scratching a mistake out here and there, because her hand was moving too fast for her brain to keep up. The only sounds being that of quill to parchment, and the occasional shuffling of newly graded papers courtesy of McGonagall, were the few noises in the otherwise quiet classroom.

Grace's writing hand was throbbing painfully and relatively sore by the time she finally finished and placed her quill back in her inkwell and leaving it there. She proudly smiled down at the finished product of her poem. Her work so definitely deserved an Outstanding, if not at least an Exceeds Expectations. Now she just sounded conceited, but she couldn't help it. She was really proud of how her poem turned out.

With her Muggle Studies homework now complete and off to the side of her desk, Grace had nothing else to do but wait until detention was over. So she took out her journal instead and began drawing; drawing always calmed her and came more naturally to her than anything else ever could.

She plucked her handsome scarlet quill from her inkwell so fast that some of the ink accidentally got on top of the piece of parchment that was in front of her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting started. She was afraid that she'd forget; drawing came naturally for her, sure, but her inspirations often times came and went, never staying for long. And before she knew it, they were usually gone before she even got started.

Soon after she'd finished, she was given back her wand and released from detention, with McGonagall staying behind as she still had papers to be graded. She saw the occasional student out of bed, but didn't reprimand them. She was Head Girl, and it was her job to put students in their places when they felt the need to break the rules, yeah, but she was just too tired to care tonight. She felt drained enough from the day as it was, without having to deal with students out of bed due to it being a Saturday night of all nights. She'd be surprised if she _didn't_ see anyone out of bed.

The thought of bed made Grace walk faster down the stairs – skipping two steps at a time as she did so – and toward the Slytherin Common Room, where her bed eagerly awaited her. She jumped down the last step and was just about to turn the corner when she accidentally ran into someone. Or they ran into her. Either way, she didn't know. The corridor was dark, even with the nearby overhead torches flickering shadows across the walls, sure, but it wasn't hard to distinguish who she was.

Hermione Granger.

And she had tears in her eyes.

* * *

**A/N **And Grace Amaura King is born!

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^^


	2. Chapter 2: Crash Course

**A/N **Thank you **CarriePlum** and **applecandykiss** for reviewing the last chapter! It certainly means a lot to me! :)

**Disclaimer** _Harry Potter_ (c) to the brilliant and most clever J.K. Rowling. Grace Amaura King & Professor Caldwell (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

* * *

Chapter Two – "Crash Course"

Granger had run into Grace with such force that it made her fall backwards, with Granger, whom ran into her in the first place, fall backwards too.

The Seventh Year Slytherin girl grunted, looking up at the Seventh Year Gryffindor that ran smack dab into her, ready to give that girl a piece of her mind – about watching where she was going – but stopped short upon seeing her face.

"Granger?" Grace asked tentatively, never before had she seen the Seventh Year Gryffindor in such a state, especially so close to the Slytherin Common Room. Actually, _why_ was she so close to the Slytherin Common Room, anyway? This was so unlike her; she knew that the entirety of Slytherin House hated her guts. "Why are you down here?" But upon closer inspection, she noticed that there were tears in the girl's eyes. "Are you… crying?"

The bushy-haired girl looked up, gasped – probably because there was a Slytherin in front of her no doubt – apologized profusely for running into her, before running away, all the way up the stairs, not stopping even once to catch her breath, leaving a very confused Slytherin girl behind in her wake.

Grace sighed, as she wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation, if she should make anything out of it at all; this was all rather confusing for the poor girl. She didn't know how to handle people when they were emotionally distressed, that was why she didn't. She usually just transformed into her Animagus form; everybody loved dogs. They were much friendlier than Slytherins, after all; it was only natural for people to open up to a dog than to a girl wearing Slytherin's colors of green and silver. More often than not, students from other Houses forget that often times Slytherins have feelings too and could also be sensitive when they wanted to be. But usually people couldn't look past the colors and just thought of Slytherins as heartless creatures, with no soul – like Dementors. But they did have a heart, and weren't entirely soulless like Dementors, and they, too, had feelings, like everybody else.

She got up; dusting off her robe of dust she could only assume was there, seeing as it was really too dark to see if she had dust on her robe to begin with. She made a grab for her rucksack – that had seemingly fallen from her shoulder upon collision with the emotionally distressed Gryffindor girl – but suddenly stopped upon noticing a book that had been carelessly left abandoned, now sprawled out on the floor, next to her feet.

In picking it up, Grace saw that it was a copy of _Advanced Rune Translation_; Study of Ancient Runes – or commonly known as Ancient Runes – was one of Granger's favorite subjects, at least when she compared the class to Divination, so she overheard one day when the girl was walking by with Potter and Weasley.

Now she definitely couldn't transform into her Animagus form; she was an unregistered Animagus, and Granger would surely put the pieces of the puzzle together if she were to return the book as a dog instead of as herself. She snapped the book shut in frustration and placed it in her rucksack, all the while groaning to herself in the process. She couldn't believe what she was about to do: to confront Granger, return her bloody book and hopefully get the hell out of there, all in one piece, and all the while in human form too.

Grace turned on her heel in order to make her way back up the stairs, but soon found out she had to wall crawl, because she must have sprained her ankle when Granger had accidentally collided into her, and started up the stairs once more. Anxious beyond belief, she raked her fingers through her brown locks nervously in anticipation. She hated having to deal with drama, which was exactly why she didn't have any friends; Parkinson was a hand full to deal with already, without any more added drama to her life as was. Well, she had had _a_ friend – but that was a very, _very_ long time ago.

She stumbled along the way down the corridor, hoping to hear a sign – _any_ sign – of Granger, suddenly aware of the fact that she didn't have any clue of where the girl had gone, if she had even gone this way in the first place, she stopped in her tracks at that realization. Her ears were on high alert for any sound that indicated the whereabouts of Granger's presence.

That was when she heard it; the pathetic sound of someone sniffling. She poked her head around the corner and saw that Granger was sitting on the floor, with her back up against the cold brick wall and her knees up to her chest and her head completely hidden between her knees. It was definitely a pathetic sight to watch.

The Seventh Year Slytherin girl rolled her eyes at how pathetic the female species of the human race could be sometimes; and she was one of them. It was just sad sometimes that she had to categorize herself as a girl; but as much as she hated most of the female population, boys weren't much better. She brought her head back around from the corner, sighed, and collapsed against the wall.

_Well, here goes nothing, _Grace thought as she composed herself, before turning on her heel and rounding the corner of the corridor.

* * *

**A/N **Grace's confrontation with Hermione is in the next chapter.

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^^


	3. Chapter 3: Mudblood vs Muggle-born

******A/N** I wrote this chapter so many times I've lost count. Don't you just hate it when you can see what to write in the mind's eye, but it doesn't come out like that? That's what happened here... and then I started yet another term of school, too, so that's why this story was on hold for a time.

******Disclaimer** _Harry Potter_ (c) to the brilliant and most clever J.K. Rowling. Grace Amaura King & Professor Caldwell (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

* * *

Chapter Three – "Mudblood vs. Muggle-born"

Grace entered the Slytherin Dungeon, and slid down the wall as she thought back to earlier.

* * *

Grace had zero to no, which was technically still zero, people skills, and absolutely hated anything outside of her comfort zone. She also never liked anything having to do with change, especially change – she absolutely_ loathed_ change.

Tom Riddle – also known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who to most of the wizarding population, to people who feared him; Lord Voldemort to himself; and the Dark Lord to his followers – was a prime example of change gone badly, _very_ badly. She wasn't even sure that most people knew his real name, you know, before he changed it.

The brunette hesitated before stopping in her tracks completely, halfway down the corridor as she stood there like an idiot, at a loss of what to do. What was she going to do? She had no idea. See? This was exactly why she preferred the comfort of the shadows that the darkness brought when helping people.

In taking Granger's accidental left behind copy of _Advanced Rune Translation_ from out of her rucksack, Grace ran her index finger along the spine of the tome before she ran her hand over the front cover with a faraway look in her eyes.

She knew she shouldn't open it. It was an invasion of privacy above all if she did, and if anyone knew anything about privacy, it would be Grace. But her curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't help herself: she opened it. Having already read the same material herself, the Slytherin girl merely skimmed through it, not really finding anything of interest, as she knew she wouldn't.

But then she turned the next page.

"Hm? What's this?" Grace asked, eyes narrowing dangerously. A small crumpled up piece of parchment was folded right down the middle and stuck between the pages, its edges jagged. "Sloppy," Grace said, removing it with little to no effort even though it had been roughly shoved between the pages without care. She unfolded it delicately as it was already torn some, careful to avoid anymore tearing so that she'd be able to read it.

_Mudblood_

Grace stared, long and hard, too appalled by one simple word scrawled on a piece of parchment, to care about anything else, at least not at the moment. "Typical Parkinson," Grace all but sneered out the girl's name. It hadn't been hard to figure out whose writing it was, having graded some of her papers in past detentions and all. She'd recognize Parkinson's sloppy cursive anywhere, though she was surprised that she could read it at all.

_Well, duh. No wonder Granger's crying her eyes out, _Grace groaned, looking up at the Muggle-born girl in question. She currently had her knees pulled up to her chest as her hair made a veil around her head that was between her knees, back leaning against the wall.

_I guess now I at least know __why__ she's crying, but I still __really__ don't want to do this, _Grace conceded, frustrated. _Merlin's beard! Why's this so damn hard?_

* * *

Grace groaned, as she leaned her head against the wall and looked up in embarrassment, closing her eyes and unfortunately continued to remember.

* * *

She ran a hand through her frizzy hair in frustration in the hopes to relieve some of the stress that she felt, but to no avail. This should be easy, so why wasn't it?

The Seventh Year Slytherin girl groaned before she realized that Granger's sniffling had ceased. She dared to look up, but only to have her eyes widened in horror: the Gryffindor girl shifted from where she sat as her head came out from between her knees.

Grace's flight response immediately kicked in as she turned around and dashed behind the corner of the corridor, literally tripping over her own two feet in the process of getting there. She held her breath in anticipation at the possibility of getting caught as she listened for any sign of Granger investigating, and all the while praying that she wouldn't be discovered.

"H-hello?" asked Granger uncertainly, her voice shaky from crying. "Is anyone there?"

Grace stood there, behind the corner of the corridor, still as a statue, holding her breath as she was much too scared to make a peep, fearing that the bushy-haired girl would surely hear it if she did make any sound, including breathing.

"Who's there? I-I know you're there!" she said louder, sounding much more confident now even though the Slytherin girl knew that not to be true. Grace heard Granger get up. "Show yourself!" Footsteps followed soon after Granger's voice.

As her footsteps grew closer, Grace began to panic. She then dared a glance at where they were coming from and saw the light of a _Lumos_ charm illuminating the dimly lit corridor a good ways up ahead.

_Great, _Grace thought as she panicked. _Now what?_

That was when she remembered about the Gryffindor girl's copy of _Advanced Rune Translation_ which she was still holding. She looked down at it, eyes wide and fearful.

* * *

Hermione continued down the supposedly abandoned corridor, wand tip alit as it illuminated her path so that she could see where it was she was going, taking it slow and steady so as to not make a sound and startle… the thing off, whatever or whoever it was.

She stopped just short of turning the corner, preparing herself mentally by talking to herself, not out loud of course, but in her own mind. As she was about ready to round the corner, however, something slid down the floor, toward her. It stopped as it hit her foot.

Hermione's head tilted to the side in curiosity.

It was a book.

But not just any book, it was _her_ book.

She remembered that she had dropped it somewhere along the way, but not anywhere near here. So then: how did it get here? Her head instantly snapped in which the direction of the book – _her_ book – had come from in suspicion and confusion, but mostly in suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, as she sharply rounded the corner of the corridor in silence, expecting to see something… someone… there.

But… there was nothing.

Nothing was there. Now Hermione was confused. She could've sworn… but no. It couldn't have been… could it? No, that was highly unlikely – impossible.

She bent down and picked up her book, opening it hesitantly. She flipped pages upon pages and only stopped where she knew the note to be. She stared at it rather curiously, it looked… different somehow. Her eyes widened after opening it.

_Don't listen to them, Hermione. You're not what they say._

_By the way, you dropped this. Just thought you might like to have it back seeing as it is yours after all._

_Salem_

Hermione gasped.

* * *

"Now look who's the pathetic one," Grace groaned, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand, too consumed by embarrassment to even realize that she wasn't alone.

"Who?"

* * *

**A/N **Thank you to **CarriePlum**, **Guest **and **Hopelesslyhope **for reviewing the last chapter! I certainly do appreciate all the feedback that you guys give me! And hope that you liked this chapter just as much if not more!

A slightly longer chapter than the last two because I made you guys wait for it. :)

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^^


End file.
